


Vision without Action

by millerna



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Plot, Political Drama, Post-Canon, Sister-Sister Relationship, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millerna/pseuds/millerna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series gen, set a year after the end of the series. With Zaibach's future uncertain, refugees from the nation pour into neighboring kingdoms, desperate for a life more promising than the one that awaits them in the ruins of their homeland. Those that don't flee the country work as scrappers for the occupying nations of Basram and Cesario. Allen Schezar, hero of the Destiny Wars and Knight of Caeli, is sent to patrol the border between Asturia and Zaibach in order to safeguard against an invasion. Convinced it's the safest place in Asturia for her to be, Allen sends his sister, Celena, to serve as a personal guard to Millerna in the palace. </p>
<p>Allen couldn't be any more wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vision without Action

The name of the painter was Therese, the same name as Millerna’s late mother. It didn't make Millerna uncomfortable. When her mother married her father, the name rose rapidly in popularity; girls named Therese or Theresa sprouted up everywhere, like dandelions in an untended field. Even Dryden's oldest sister shared her name with Millerna's mother.

Eventually, though, the name fell out of popularity in Asturia, only to rise up suddenly at the time of Therese's death. Millerna wondered if someday the same would happen to her. After she became queen, would swaths of girls named Millerna be running through city streets? At her death, would people be naming their daughters Millerna in her honor?

"Can you bring your head back up just a little?" Therese asked, pulling Millerna away from her thoughts. Millerna lifted her head, then set her eyes back on Therese. Therese gave her an approving nod, then settled back down into her seat. She mixed her paints (a little yellow, a little white), then began to drag her brush across the canvas with an audible scratch. Outside of that sound, a perfect silence filled the space between both women. Every so often, Therese would look up from her canvas, study Millerna with a practiced eye, then, satisfied with what she found, resumed her painting with renewed gusto.

Therese was a brown-haired woman with a dark complexion, a few freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Her hair was pulled back into a simple braid that started at the nape of her neck; a few loose strands of hair curled in front of her unadorned ears.

Therese looked about Marlene’s age; she was probably one of the girls who took their name from the queen shortly after she was crowned queen. Her clothing was as basic as her hairstyle. She wore a simple paint-stained hempen apron over a simple cotton tunic. She wore pants, though the legs of them were wide enough that Millerna almost mistook it for a skirt the first time she saw them. The choice was probably deliberate. While everyone at the palace was accustomed to the youngest princess running around in riding pants, they weren’t entirely comfortable with any other woman doing the same.

And besides that, Millerna hadn’t worn slacks since before she was married.

Neither woman talked much during the sittings; they exchanged pleasantries before and after each session, but Therese never spoke to the princess, unless it was to direct her into another position. Millerna didn’t mind the silence; in fact, she enjoyed it. Those peaceful hours she spent with Therese were a much-needed reprieve from the chaos and demands of the rest of the week.

Today, however, Millerna was having a hard time enjoying it; worry after worry burbled up inside of her, and with nothing to busy her mind, she had no other choice but to confront it. 

“Princess,” Therese began, not looking up from her canvas. “Forgive me if I’m being forward, but is something _wrong_?”

Millerna swallowed, then attempted a smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not that obvious,” the painter reassured her, glancing up for just a second before returning to her painting. “I make a living out of capturing the little details, though. Wouldn’t be much of a painter if I didn’t notice something was different.”

Millerna said nothing, but this didn’t seem to bother Therese.

“It’s part of how I earned this commission, actually,” Therese continued, dipping a soiled brush in a mason jar filled with water. “Heightened perception. I’m good at noticing the little things and bringing them out on the canvas. More than good, actually -- probably the best around. That’s the only way I’d end up here, painting a princess. There’s more than enough male competition to go around..” 

Millerna’s smile was slight, but it was genuine this time. “That musn’t have been easy.”

Therese tapped her brush against the lip of the mason jar with a series of audible clinks. “You’d know, wouldn’t you? People say you’re a doctor.”

“ _Was_ a doctor,” Millerna corrected, wondering if she could truly be called one in the first place. She was self-trained, self-taught; there were no medical academies for girls in Asturia, no master doctors that would take women under their wing and teach them their ways.

Therese pressed her brush back down to her palette and looked at Millerna, her gaze perplexed, but steady. “And you’re not anymore?”

“I’m a princess,” Millerna said. “And eventually, I’ll be queen. I can do more for Asturia now as her leader than I ever could as a doctor.”

A growing frown pulled itself across Theresa’s lips. “After Zaibach attacked Palas, weren’t you helping everyone? I heard that after the prince was brought back to the palace, you were bandaging up anyone you could get your hands on. I heard the guards were furious about that, too. They all thought Zaibach might do something to you. Easier to keep their eyes on you at the palace.”

Millerna shook her head. “They weren’t after me; they were looking for Hitomi.”

“So you don’t deny the whole ‘patching ‘em up’ thing?” Theresa asked, looking a little too self-satisfied.

“No,” Millerna conceded reluctantly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I can do more with my position now than I ever could as a doctor.”

Theresa set her brush back to the canvas. “You can be both, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“A doctor _and_ a princess. There’s no law saying you can’t be both.”

“No… but…” Millerna’s voice trailed off as her gaze fell to the ground.

“Head up,” Theresa reminded her, in a voice that made Millerna feel less like the ruler she was. Millerna complied, lifting her chin back into position. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time,” she said, as she continued her work. “I just don’t see what’s wrong with doing both.”

There wasn’t anything wrong with doing both. Millerna knew it just as well as Theresa did. But what she wanted to do and what she _could_ do were two separate things entirely. She no longer had the time to dedicate to her medical studies like she used to, and even if she could find the time, it felt like everyone would be judging her. The council already criticized her enough; if she spent any leisure time pouring over medical tomes instead of studying political documents, the council would only become more difficult than they were already. Most of them had unspoken compunctions about a woman acting as leader already. She didn’t want to give them another reason to mistrust her judgment. 

“You’re not overstepping your bounds,” Millerna re-assured Therese, her voice firmer than before. “I know that there’s good that I can do as a doctor, but right now isn’t the time.”

“When is, then?”

Millerna inhaled. Would there ever be a time? She had always thought when Dryden returned, she’d be banished from the political arena, with more free time than she’d ever know what to do with. Then, she was sure, she’d have plenty of time to study, to practice, to volunteer. But as the months passed, it became increasingly evident that the prince wasn’t about to return. The few members of the council who openly voiced their support for remarriage all offered names of men who wouldn’t allow her to study medicine. Dryden was far more liberal in his views than the Finance Advisor’s oldest son, or the Prince of Basram. 

“I don’t know right now,” Millerna admitted. “I just hope that moment comes soon.”

Therese made a little sound as she frowned down at the painting.Millerna wasn’t sure if the sound was directed at her or the canvas between them.

“Is everything looking okay?” she asked.

“It isn’t bad,” Therese said, frowning down at it. “But it’s missing a certain _something_. Our time’s up, though. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do today.”

“Meeting with my nephew, then a meeting with the council.”

“Well,” Therese said, carelessly dropping her brush back into the mason jar. “At least one of your meetings today will be pleasant. You want to take a look at it?” she asked, nodding her head toward the portrait. “We’ll probably need one more sitting, but we’re getting there at least.”

Millerna rose from her chair, then stepped to the other side of the easel. Therese wiped the back of her hands on her apron, as Millerna gazed at the portrait, her lips slightly parted.

“Impressed?” Therese asked, smiling.

“It just--”

“It just what?”

“It just looks like _Marlene_.”

The two of them had always resembled one another, but this was the first time it truly hit home. Millerna was seventeen now, and Marlene had been only a year older than her when she left for Freid. The last time she’d seen Marlene, she looked so much like the portrait there in front of them. The bangs were different and Millerna’s hair was a little longer than Marlene’s, but the two could have almost been twins.

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Therese said. The smile from her face vanished as she stood by Millerna’s side.Therese set her hands on her waist. “That _is_ a good thing, right?”  
Millerna looked at the portrait of herself, and the portrait of herself gazed back out at her. The painting’s eyes had a strange, melancholy look in them -- the same look she remembered seeing in Marlene’s eyes when she sat down with her and told her she was getting married.

“Yes,” Millerna decided, turning to look at Therese. “Yes, it is.”

* * *

Chid was not alone in the foyer of the palace when Millerna and Eries entered. Two guards in Freid regalia flanked him on either side. Asturian guards stood tightly-erect at the side of each door leading into the foyer. The guards couldn’t look any more different. Freid’s guards were thickly-armored in metals stained silver and gold and green, while the Asturian guards wore richly-plumed hats and nylon-cotton suits that’d look more fitting on a ballroom floor than on a battlefield.

Chid looked so small next to the two Freid soldiers, though he was taller than the last time she had seen him. He wore a gold crown that Millerna almost mistook for the one he wore a year and a half before. Though a thick tuft of tassels still sprouted from its center, it was larger, and alternating circular rubies and emeralds the length of Millerna’s thumb were neatly spaced along the crown’s base.

His tunic was green, with gold embellishments that were far more elaborate than the simple pleated white slacks he wore beneath it. An elaborate-looking set of green-and-gold shoes that perfectly matched his attire.

Chid’s hair was longer now, and it was darker too. Now, it was nearly the same shade as blonde as Allen’s, and pulled back into a tight, thin ponytail that started at the nape of his neck.

Did Allen look like this when he was younger? Millerna wondered.

As the Asturian princesses approached, the two guards from Freid fell to a single knee. Chid’s posture stiffened, and he slid one hand neatly into the sleeve of the other. Millerna smiled, hoping to put Chid at ease, but the boy prince did not appear to relax in the least.

Instead, he bowed deeply, as if greeting a member of another royal house instead of his beloved aunts.

“Aunt Millerna,” he said in greeting, as he straightened, his gaze meeting her own. He turned and faced Eries, meeting her eyes with the same forceful gaze he greeted Millerna. “Aunt Eries.”

“Chid,” Millerna said, returning his bow with one of her own. “As soon as I heard you arrived, I rushed to see you. You must be tired from your long trip. Did you travel all right?” 

“Yes,” he replied. “We were briefly tied up outside the city by a skirmish there, but not for very long.”

Millerna could feel Eries’ eyes on her, and her smile briefly vanished, only to resurface a second later. “I’m glad to hear that it was uneventful otherwise. I’m sure it must have been a pretty dull journey.”

Chid shook his head again. “Asturia is a beautiful country. There was so much to see.”

Though Chid was just as polite and diplomatic as he had ever been, there was something distant about him that made Millerna feel ill at ease. When she visited Freid a year and a half ago, Millerna had met Chid for the first time since he was a baby, and he regarded her with familial warmth. Now, it felt as though a massive gulf had drawn itself in the space between them, leaving Millerna with a desperate urge to reach across it and pull back the familiar.

“You know, I think that every time I have a chance to get out,” she said. “I don’t have much free time lately, though.”

“Because of grandfather?”

Eries interrupted before Millerna could speak in her further. “Why don’t we show you to your room and we can talk further there?” She looked over at the guards, and the pair rose to their feet. They borrowed in acknowledgement, then turned for the door. Chid watched their retreat before giving his oldest aunt a steady nod. 

“Okay.”

Eries turned and led the way, the sharp staccato sound of her heels hitting marble floor echoing down the hall. There were several ways to the royal quarters, but the entrance through the east gallery was the quietest of the three, in part due to its location. It was far from the kitchens, the servant’s quarters, the stables. There were no servants briskly walking down that corridor; errant pages didn’t get lost there, either. Aside from the occasional guard stationed at an exit or entrance, the route afforded them absolute privacy.

Light filtered in from the massive white-framed windows on wall, shining across the painted faces of Asturian royal figures on the other. Each of them appeared to look down in passive silence as they continued their procession.

“Father…” Millerna hesitated. This wasn’t a topic she liked to dwell on, and it was difficult for her to know exactly how to broach the topic with Chid. He might be a duke -- a royal leader in his own right -- but he was still only seven years old. He had lost so much over the last seven years: his mother, then his father. His grandfather, as distant as he was, was one of the few relatives that Chid still had left. 

“Father is unlikely to recover,” Eries finished briskly, in Milerna’s moment of hesitation. 

Millerna pressed her lips together. The palace doctors had come to the same conclusion as Millerna had months before. Their father had shown no improvement, even as doctors tried every treatment they could think of. 

Now, as much as Millerna hated to admit it, it was all just a matter of time.

Chid frowned slightly. “What will happen when grandfather dies? Will King Dryden come back to rule in his stead?”

Millerna forced a smile. “I don’t know,” she admitted, though she was fairly certain that Dryden -- _if_ he returned -- would only do so to pay his respects to the late king, and not to claim the throne. “We still have time to figure that out, though,” she said, trying to sound cheerier than she felt. “How is Freid doing, though? I haven’t had time to visit Freid and take a look myself.”

Eries shot her a look; Eries knew that she was trying to redirect the conversation. Who could blame her, though? The future leadership of Asturia was still up in the air, and members of the council reached out to her privately about re-marriage almost as often as they did their current refugee situation. She didn’t like to think about it -- let alone discuss it.

“It’s going well,” Chid answered before she could dwell on his query for long. “Palas has rebuilt much more quickly than Freid has, but the supplies you sent have helped.”

“I’m glad.” The guard standing at the hall’s exit pulled open the ceiling-high door as they approached. Eries stepped in first, Millerna and Chid a half-step behind her. “We really do need to look out for one another, and not just because we’re related, either.”

The doors closed behind them with a heavy sound. A gallery served as a foyer that separated the royal quarters from the rest of the palace. Plush furnishings formed a semi-circle around an unused fireplace, providing seating for waiting guests or comfortable loungings for more intimate meetings. An intricately-designed longsword hung over the fireplace. A sculptured figure of Jeture curled around the pommel of the sword before rising open-mouthed to the place where the grip met the blade. A blue sapphire formed the god’s glowing eye.

Several pieces of ceremonial armor stood upright in various parts of the room, decorated in the blues and gold of Asturia. The Asturian seal decorated the left breast of each piece. Neither the sword nor the armors had been used in a very long time; they were intended to be used by Asturia’s leaders in time of war, and no Asturian king had seen battle since the time of Millerna’s great-great-great grandfather. 

The paintings in the gallery were far more welcoming than the ones in the hall before it. Oil paintings of the current ruling family lined the walls. An adolescent Grava stood solemn in one portrait, a hunting dog sitting erect and alert in front of him. Grava and Therese, dressed in their wedding attire, looked young and happy and in love in another. Then came the family portraits. Millerna loved looking at them when she was younger, but now that she was older, they were harder for her to appreciate. They were a visual timeline marking the gradual expansion and attrition of their family. In another year, there would probably be another addition, a portrait of Millerna and Eries alone, the last remaining members of the Asturian royal family.

Chid stopped in front of one of the paintings as they crossed the room, looking up at a portrait of Marlene and Mahad holding a baby Chid. King Aston had commissioned the portrait almost immediately after the prince’s birth when he was unable to travel to Freid himself to see his newborn grandson. He had the painting mounted in the royal gallery immediately after it arrived.

Millerna looked over at Eries, not knowing exactly how to respond to Chid’s evident interest in the the family portrait.

“Your room is this way,” Eries said, stepping towards the door closest to the fireplace.

“Aunt Eries,” Chid said, still gazing up at the painting. Both Millerna and Eries turned to direct their attention to him. Finally, he turned and looked in the direction of the oldest Aston sister. 

“May I stay in mother’s room?”

Eries rarely looked caught off-guard. Millerna knew her sister had an almost preternatural ability to keep a straight face -- a talent Millerna herself envied, particularly during long, grueling meetings with the council. But Eries’ discomfort was palpable now -- drawn in the slight furrow of her brow, and the soft downward quirk of her lips. 

“Actually,” Millerna interjected, Chid turning to face her, instead. “Your mother’s room hasn’t been used in some time. We’d have to air it out and pull off the dust covers before you could use it.”

“Oh.” Chid sounded disappointed.

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t use it,” Millerna insisted. “I have a council meeting to attend soon, but I’m sure Eries can ask the servants to get that all started. You can probably even sleep in her room tonight.”

“Really?” Chid sounded more like the boy she had seen in Freid a year and a half before.

“Really,” Millerna confirmed.

Chid turned back to the painting and smiled. Eries stepped toward Millerna. Her lips were straight and narrow now, but her brows were still knitted with worry.

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Eries asked quietly.

“It’s only natural for him to want to be closer to her, especially right now.” Millerna watched as Chid moved onto the next painting, a portrait of all three Aston girls together, and stared up at the young face of his mother. 

Eries said nothing.

“Do _you_ think it’s a bad idea?” 

“I don’t know if it would be good for him to learn too much about his mother right now,” Eries replied. Millerna knew precisely what Eries meant by too much.

“Ask the servants to remove any written personal effects they find from her room,” Millerna suggested, hoping to assuage her sister’s concerns. “Marlene was always good at hiding things. If they’re not able to find anything, then I’m sure Chid won’t be able to, either.”

Eries did not look completely convinced.

“We’re going to have to tell him someday,” Millerna said, watching as Chid moved onto the next painting. 

“I know,” Eries said crisply. “But if I can, I’d like to avoid having that conversation anytime soon.”  
Millerna pressed her lips together. “You _will_ speak with the servants, won’t you?”

“I’ll have the guard summon them now,” she responded. “Now, don’t you have a meeting you should be attending?”

Millerna looked over at Chid, gazing wide-eyed at the portrait of the three Aston sisters. Then she looked at the portrait. Then she looked back over at Eries.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said. 

* * *

It was strange, not having Eries in attendance at the council meeting. Eries had never been present when her father sat at the head of the council, and when Eries started attending when Millerna first took over her father’s, then Dryden’s duties, she felt uncharacteristically insecure.

Gradually, though, those feelings ebbed away when she realized her sister didn’t actually doubt her abilities. What she doubted was the council’s willingness to demure to a female head of state.

Once Millerna realized that, Eries’ presence became a welcome one. Millerna felt more secure, more in her element, with her sister there at her side. Without her there, Millerna felt off-balance, as if some critical piece had been suddenly seized from her grasp. 

Aside from Meiden, who functioned as Grava’s and Dryden’s councillor before Millerna stepped into the role, Eries was the only person outside of the council permitted to attend the meetings. She didn’t sit at the council table, or even speak during the meetings, instead observing from a standing position to the right of Millerna, her hands neatly folded in front of her. Millerna knew there was plenty Eries could have said during those meetings if she felt it appropriate, but her elder sister generally reserved her opinions when the two of them convened in the gallery after the meeting.

Millerna sat at the table’s head in a chair that felt too large for her lithe frame. Its dark rosewood back rose higher than the other chairs at the table, and when Millerna leaned back in the chair, she could feel the thick ornamental carving of Jeture pressing against the small space between her shoulders. 

The council was made up of a deputy minister and eight ministers, each overseeing a portion of the Asturian government; the deputy minister took notes during the meeting and assisted the other ministers as needed. Five members of the council flanked Millerna on one side; Meiden, the deputy minister, and the other ministers sat on the other. The most veteran members of the council sat closest to her, with Meiden sitting at her right and the Minister of Religious Affairs sitting on her left. 

Every member of the council was older than her; even the youngest was a decade older than she was. Ministers inherited their titles, just as she did hers, with the oldest son taking the role upon his father’s death. If a minister bore no sons before he expired, his closest, oldest male blood relative took on the role, ensuring that the same twelve families played a prominent role in Asturian government indefinitely.

“Duke Chid tells me that there was a scuffle outside the city today,” Millerna said, directing her attention towards Biston. Though the minister’s long brown hair was now a silvery-gray, he still managed to maintain the physique of a man much younger than his 64 years. It was little wonder, though; as Minister of Military affairs, he spent the brunt of his off-hours working with the soldiers stationed within the city. During the council’s frequent recesses, Biston ventured out to the border to patrol alongside the soldiers there. He also seemed like one of the few ministers that supported her. “You didn’t happen to hear anything about that, have you?”

“More problems with thieving rabble. Nothing to be concerned with, your highness,” he answered. 

“ _Rabble_ ,” came a smug voice from the far end of the table. “Why don’t you call them by what they really are?”

Millerna could feel her shoulders rise as she drew in a breath. She exhaled, then opened her mouth to speak. “Lord Desil--” she began.

The young Minister of Law turned to face Millerna, his expression glowering. She knew that if her father had been sitting here, he wouldn’t have regarded him with such outright disrespect, but Millerna wasn’t king. She wasn’t very old, and she wasn’t male, and sooner or later, she was going to be replaced by someone who _was_ \-- someone who likely wouldn’t listen to her complaints about the council during her brief reign. Millerna hated feeling so helpless. She wanted to help Asturia, but she couldn’t command respect, let alone command unity among the council. 

But she still had to try.

“I don’t think where they came from bears any reflection,” she said. “Asturia had thieves long before the war with Zaibach, and she will continue to have thieves long after.”

Desil fell back into his chair, clearly distancing himself from the conversation. Millerna turned to Biston and offered him a smile. “I’m glad to hear that it wasn’t serious.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Biston said, with a slight bow of the head.

“Things can’t be resolved that easily,” piped up another one of the ministers. Millerna spun her head to face Orin, as gray-haired and tired-looking as he had when Millerna first saw met him over a decade ago. “The refugees are not adapting well. There’s been fighting among the citizens and these _transients_. I’m sure Lord Desil can speak of it better than anyone; these little squabbles are getting worse, and they will only continue as long as Asturia’s borders remain open.”

“But you can’t deny the positive affect they’ve had on our economy,” piped in Pender. Like Desil, he was one of the younger ministers, with long blonde hair that cascaded loosely over his shoulders. “Our merchants are doing very well for themselves. With the increased revenue we’re bringing in from taxes on those goods, I’m sure that we can find _some_ way to reduce the number of trifling scuffles happened.” 

Meiden nodded in approval. “I agree, Princess. Our new citizens have done a great deal to help Asturia recover from the Zaibach attack -- economically and structurally.”

Millerna could hear Cole, the vice-minister, hastily scribble down notes from where he sat at the far end of the table. The sound of quill against paper was interrupted briefly by a sigh from Rowan, who seemed determine to theatrically project precisely how bored he was to the rest of the room.

“And when one of these trifling scuffles results in the loss of one our citizens?” Orin countered. “Are we truly that willing to put the lives of our people out to market?”

“We have an obligation,” interjected Wilte, pushing his spectacles up the brim of his nose. “As the enlightened people of Asturia, it is our duty -- no, our _privilege_ to welcome those in need into our country.” Somehow, during the last ten seconds, his glasses somehow managed once again to slide down the gentle slope of his nose, and he once again pushed them back into place. “Jeture looks kindly on acts of benevolence. Asturia will surely be blessed fivefold for the generosity we demonstrate to the people of Zaibach.” 

Wilte nodded several times, as if to emphasize precisely how much he believed his words to be true. Millerna glanced at Aldrich, her Minister of Religious Affairs, the man who married her and Dryden a year before. He simply nodded his assent; he rarely became directly involved with the squabbles of the council. If Millerna didn’t look for the visual cues, she’d never know _what_ he was thinking.

Millerna set her hands down on the table, its glossy surface cool against the palm of her hands. “I think I agree,” Millerna says. “It--”

“You _think_?” interjected another one of the ministers, Cadwell. Millerna could feel a headache coming on. Were they always this defensive and she had never been this sensitive to it before, or were they more aggressive than usual today because Eries wasn’t here? 

“ _As I was trying to say before_ ,” Millerna said, her voice strained. “The refugees have done nothing bad enough for me to question them staying here. Yes, there have been problems, and yes, I’m sure there will be even more until Asturia figures out how best to accommodate them. But a few scuffles in or outside the city is not worth banishment, especially to a people who were as much victims to the self-serving leader of Zaibach as Asturia was.”

“But _princess_ , are you sure? Surely--”

Millerna could feel her body growing hot with anger, but somehow, she managed to maintain her composure. “I’m sure, Lord Dresil,” she said firmly. “We’ll re-assess this when and if anything changes, but for now, things will remain as they are.”

Millerna had expected to hear Dresil protest again, as he had done so many other times, but this time, the interruption didn’t come from a member of the council; instead, it came from the heavy council doors, which suddenly opened.

“Your Highness.”

There, standing at the entrance to the council chambers, was Celena Schezar, sister to Allen Schezar and for now, at least, Millerna’s personal guard. Celena bowed deeply to the princess, then again to the other council members seated at the table. Their expressions were every bit as puzzled as the Millerna’s.

“Celena, is something wrong?”

Celena said nothing, instead striding briskly over to Millerna. Hand cupped to the side of her mouth, she leaned down to whisper in the princess’ ear:

“Look serious, okay?”

Millerna tried her best to comply, her lips forming a straight and narrow line; still, it couldn’t hide the growing perplexity drawing itself across her face. Millerna had to fight herself from asking Celena what she was doing.

“Now, act like I’m saying something very important,” she whispered, hand still obscuring her mouth from public view.

And in that moment, Millerna knew exactly what Celena was up to. She locked eyes with Celena and gave the other blonde a knowing nod. From their seats, a few members of the council exchanged looks with one another, all clearly wondering what could be so urgent that it would warrant the interruption of their meeting.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Millerna abruptly stood, Celena straightening beside her. “My apologies,” she said, with all the remorse she could bring herself to feign. “An urgent matter has been brought to my attention, and I must deal with it immediately. We’ll have to table this conversation for now.”

Murmurs rose up from around the table. Wilte was the first to interject. “Princess, when will that be? We’ve put off this discussion for some time; we’re only just beginning to--”

“Two days from now,” Millerna said, firmly.

“Why not tomorrow?” he demanded. “We have--”

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of Princess Marlene’s death.”

Wilte’s brown eyes suddenly widened with understanding, his ruddy skin darkening to a deeper shade of red. “My apologies, princess! I--”

Millerna lifted a hand and Wilte stopped mid-breath. “No need for apologies,” she said. “I understand how it could have slipped your mind. We’ll reconvene in two days’ time. I thank you all for your understanding.”

Millerna stepped away from the table, and quickly made her way to the door, Celena treading a half-step behind her. She could feel the eyes of all the ministers on her, but for once, she didn’t care. She was just thankful to be out of that room, away from them and their senseless arguments and patronizing tones. She was tired of this, day after day, and any patience she might have had stored up had evaporated as the anniversary of her sister’s death drew closer. She turned to Celena, who was closing the doors behind them, and suddenly felt her chest well up with gratitude for the other woman.

“A lot better,” she said, looking at the closed doors with great satisfaction.

“How did you--?” Millerna began, in low tones.

“Have you _heard_ Desil?” Celena countered, turning to face the princess. “His voice carries all the way down the hall on a _normal_ day. When I heard him today, though, I thought maybe you could use some rescuing for a change.”

For once, Millerna didn’t mind being cut off. “My knight in shining armor,” she teased. 

* * *

Millerna stood at a window in her chambers, a single hand pressed against its cool glass. Darkness had spread quickly across Palas that evening, blanketing the city in blues and blacks. Muddled moonlight filtered through a low, dense fog that stretched across the palace grounds and out toward the sea. When it was this foggy, you could barely see a few feet in front of you, let alone the stars in the night sky. 

Millerna loved nights like these as a child. In her youth, she used to creep out of her window in just her nightie and imagine that she’d get lost in the thick of the fog, only to emerge in some other, distant world, free of nagging older sisters or strict fathers.

Maybe even the Mystic Moon.

“Hitomi,” Millerna murmured. 

“Hitomi?” Celena lit a lamp and placed it on Millerna’s table, a few feet away from where the princess stood at the window. 

Millerna turned to face the other blonde, her expression softening. “You never got to meet her, did you?” she asked. “She was our friend who came from the Mystic Moon.” 

Celena frowned, her brows furrowed, but said nothing.

“Allen never mentioned her?” Millerna asked. “I thought for sure he would have said _something_.”

Celena looked down at the lamp, then turned around. Millerna couldn’t help but feel guilty for bringing it up at all. As much as Millerna loved Allen, he had a strange way of protecting the people around him. It didn’t seem right that he shielded Celena from the outside world. Allen only sent Celena to the palace because he believed she’d be safe there while he was patrolling the border. 

Eries had been the one to make the arrangements, suggesting that Celena be made royal guard. Celena was headstrong, and would butt heads with her older brother if she thought she was being sent to the palace to be babysat. Allen agreed, if only because Millerna was safer than ever. She rarely ventured out of the palace these days, and when she did, it was with a full escort of guards. Celena would be safe in their care.

But Millerna hated it. She hated that Allen felt the need to suffocate his sister. Celena was capable, she was bright, and she was as skilled with a sword as her brother. She didn’t need protecting.

“Well, why don’t _I_ tell you about her?” Millerna asked, gazing out at Celena’s back. She frowned thoughtfully. Where should she really start? “Hitomi arrived from the Mystic Moon with Van, the King of Fanelia, during a dragon hunt. If I remember correctly, it was some sort of Fanelian ritual to bring back a Drag-Energist to power Escaflowne.”

Celena turned to face Millerna again. “Escaflowne,” she said. “That name sounds familiar.”

“It’s their kingdom’s guymelef,” she explained. Millerna stepped towards her bed and sat down on its edge. Celena sat down beside her a moment later. Millerna paused, trying to figure out how much she should say. Was she as bad as Allen for wanting to brush over everything involving Zaibach? “She was actually a really good fortune-teller, she did dowsing, too. And she had visions.”

“Visions?”

“Yes, visions. We never really talked about any of them in detail, but it seemed like Hitomi could see the future.”

Celena seemed to consider this. “Do all people from the Mystic Moon have those powers?”

“No, but Hitomi did,” she said. “Well, she did while she was still on Gaea, anyway. She said her powers were more pronounced here than they ever were on the Mystic Moon.”

“Is that why Allen didn’t mention her to me?”

There were any number of reasons why Allen might not have mentioned Hitomi to Celena, but there was only one reason Millerna could think of that would keep the mood relaxed. “Well,” she began, smiling slyly. “It might have been because they liked each other.”

“ _What_?” Celena’s response was immediate. She looked at Millerna, gaping in disbelief. 

“It didn’t work out, though,” Millerna continued smoothly. 

“Because she went back to the Mystic Moon?” Celena finally managed. 

“She did go back to the Mystic Moon, but that wasn’t the real reason things didn’t work out,” Millerna said. “Hitomi was actually in love with Van.”

“Were they actually ever together?” Celena asked. “Allen and Hitomi, I mean?”

Millerna pressed a finger to her cheek thinking. “No, I don’t actually think so. Hitomi did tell me later that they kissed, though.” That particular conversation didn’t happen until _after_ she was married to Dryden, and not until Hitomi was willing to acknowledge that Millerna had reconciled herself to a life with her husband.

Celena inhaled audibly.

“ _What_?” Millerna asked.

“It’s difficult imagining my brother with anyone.”

“Hitomi wasn’t even the first woman he was with,” Millerna teased. “Your brother was really popular with the ladies.”

“I feel sorry for anyone who could be in love with him,” Celena said, falling back onto the bed with a soft thud. “If he’s this suffocating as a brother, imagine what he’d be like if you were _married_ to him.”

Millerna said nothing, and silence filled the space between the two women. Outside the window, a bird suddenly took flight. Millerna suddenly wondered how Natal was doing, then felt silly for not wondering the same about Allen.

“What happened today in there?” Celena asked suddenly.

“In the meeting?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you could hear Lord Desil.”

“Just because he’s loud down the hallway doesn’t mean he’s understood,” Celena said, folding her hands behind her head. Millerna looked over at Celena, who was gazing up at the ceiling. Millerna sighed, then brushed a few stray hairs away from her face. 

“They’re arguing about the refugees again. They want to close the border.”

“Why don’t you just tell them no?”

“It’s not that easy,” Millerna protested.

“You’re the princess, right?”

Millerna felt irritation bubble up inside of her. First Therese, now Celena. ”Why does everyone think that just because I’m the princess, I can just do whatever I want?”

Celena’s eyes darted from the ceiling to Millerna, still sitting upright on the bed. “Okay,” she says, shifting over to her side, an elbow propped up to support her. “What’s _actually_ going on?” 

Millerna let out a mirthless laugh. “What _isn’t_? The council is squabbling again, my father’s on his deathbed, Pender won’t stop nagging me to meet his son, tomorrow is the anniversary of Marlene’s death, and Chid is--”

Millerna stopped mid-sentence.

_Chid_.

Celena’s brows furrowed as she stared at Millerna with a look of befuddlement. Millerna pressed her lips together.

“Did Allen ever tell you about Chid?” Millerna was certain she already knew the answer to this question; if Celena was ignorant to Allen’s romantic relationships, she almost certainly didn’t know that he fathered a child. But still, she had to ask.

“No, nothing that I can remember. Why?”

Millerna remembered when she discovered the truth. She was angry -- upset that the truth had been hidden from her, and that she hadn’t been able to figure it out before. Everything seemed so obvious; how could she have missed all the clues?

And why hadn’t Eries ever said anything to her? She was fifteen years old -- more than old enough to know the truth. But still, Eries didn’t trust her enough to tell her.

She couldn’t do the same to Celena.

“Chid is your nephew.”

Celena’s mouth dropped open. “ _What_?”

“He doesn’t know yet, so you can’t tell him,” Millerna added quickly. “But your brother and my sister, they...”

“I have a nephew?” 

Millerna nodded. “That’s right.”

“I have a nephew,” Celena repeated softly, as if the reality of her situation was just now beginning to sink in.

“He’s very sweet and intelligent and I think--”

“When do I get to meet him?”

* * *

Big wet drops of rain tapped an uneven rhythm as they struck the roof of the carriage. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sound, but it was something to focus on. And right now,. Millerna was trying to focus on something -- _anything_ \-- that would keep her from acknowledging the uncomfortable air that surrounded the four of them.

Chid sat directly across from her, his tiny hands balled into fists that sat atop his thighs. He stared down at his hands with a quiet intensity. He hadn’t said anything to anyone since he first sat down in the carriage a quarter of an hour ago. 

Millerna could hardly fault him; she didn’t feel much for conversation, either. When Celena made several clumsy, but earnest attempts to fill the silence, Millerna could barely bring herself to utter a few words in response. It was only mid-morning, but she already felt drained.

Millerna was certain it was far worse for Chid. He was younger, and this was his first visit to his mother’s grave. The young prince was mature, but he was still just a child. A child who had lost his mother before he ever had a chance to know her.

Millerna could relate.

Sitting next to Chid was Eries, whose sharp gaze was trained on Millerna’s face. It was the same look Eries gave her whenever she was irritated but was unwilling to say why. Millerna didn’t need to know why though; the _why_ was perfectly obvious.

Celena sat next to Millerna, hunched over her knees. She was watching Chid with great curiosity, her lips pressed tightly together. It was clear from just a glance that Celena was eager to speak with him, even though her earlier attempts at conversation had proven unsuccessful. That had apparently been enough to tip Eries off. No matter how much Millerna attempted to focus on the sound of the rain, it couldn’t completely distract her from her sister’s evident displeasure.

The sky rumbled overhead, and Millerna’s eyes darted to the carriage window, which sat opposite the carriage door. Through the thin decorative curtains that fell over the window, Millerna could see a bright flash of lightning jet across the sky.

The carriage jolted to a sudden halt. It was enough to pull Chid from his reverie. He looked at the three women, wide-eyed and solemn.

“Are we here?” he asked.

Millerna heard the familiar click of the carriage door opening.

“It sounds like it,” she said, somehow managing to sound more cheery than she actually felt. The footman opened the door with a bow, and Millerna rose to her feet, then moved toward the door. Even through the heavy rain, she could still make out the start of the familiar path that led to the royal vault. A thick grove of ash trees encircled the chamber, with only one singular carved path that led to and from the vault’s entrance. 

The rain had saturated the earth, leaving the dirt road a muddy mess. Millerna lifted the skirt of her dress as she descended the first carriage step. She was about to take another step forward when she felt something whiz directly past the front of her face.

“Millerna? What’s wrong?” Eries placed a hand on her shoulder, but Millerna didn’t react. She suddenly felt as if everything around her was moving far too fast, and she was moving far too slow. 

Millerna could hear the horses from the rear carriage approaching from behind. She turned to the footman, who gazed bewildered at the grove before them. His eyes were narrowed.

Millerna opened her mouth to speak -- _to ask what had just happened_ \-- but before she could, she heard another quick whiz. She watched as something struck him, and his body crumpled to the earth below with a splash. A thick, metal dart protruded from his neck, piercing the tiny slip of flesh above his Adam’s apple.

Millerna inhaled sharply as a frenzied neigh rose up from one of their carriage’s horses. “Hey, hey!” the driver snapped at the animal, which only aggravated the agitated horse more. The carriage lurched forward suddenly, and the driver let out another shout of anger.

It was only then, three seconds later, that Millerna finally comprended what had happened. And once she did, her reaction was immediate. 

“Get back, get back, _get back_!” Millerna pushed backwards, trying to press Eries and anyone behind her further into the relative safety of the carriage.

The driver continued to shout at the horses, who were now both struggling against their reigns. She could hear Eries and Chid and Celena’s voices join the din until it was impossible for her to make out even a single word they said. She managed to push one foot back into the carriage before she heard the window break from behind her. Millerna stopped in her tracks, suddenly unsure if the inside of the carriage were truly any safer than outside.

_She could be trapping all of them_.

“Millerna!” Eries shouted. 

With that one word, the world suddenly snapped back into focus. From within the narrow opening of the grove, Millerna could make out an approaching figure, his face cloaked in the shadows of a dark cowl. In his hands, he held a blowgun, which he lifted to his lips.

The carriage suddenly shook, and Millerna could hear the wet sound of someone landing on the other side of the carriage. 

A new burst of thunder roared overhead. Stricken with terror, Millerna couldn’t force her body to move forward or backward. 

Lightning flashed overhead, lighting up the face of the man in the cowl for just a second. Millerna watched, paralyzed, as his shoulders raised as he inhaled, then fell as he exhaled into the pipe.

“Watch out!”

Millerna felt her sister’s hand on her back again, pushing her forward. Millerna threw an arm in front of her, hoping to reduce the weight of the impact. Her arm hit the ground first, and a wave of pain shot from her wrist up to her shoulder. Her dress was sopping wet now, the skirt caked with mud. From where she landed, she turned to look up at the standing figure of her elder sister -- 

\-- then watched as Eries collapsed on top of her.


End file.
